


Aravel

by FeelsandFollies



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Dalish, Elora's Halla, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 10:30:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeelsandFollies/pseuds/FeelsandFollies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elora's Halla is dying and she prepares herself to end it's suffering. But first she reflects on her people and their companions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aravel

**Author's Note:**

> This drabble is kind of a headcanon exploration of the Dalish connection with their Halla and the role of the Halla in Elven history.

It had been a long day and Elora was so tired. She had done all she could for her ill Halla and had been nursing it for days with as much sleep as she could get in between. The Grey Warden had allowed her to focus attention on this Halla that was truly in need but it was still no better. She still could not treat the illness.

Elora had been a Halla Keeper for much of her life and was still shaken on the rare occasion that one of the beasts was lost. They were the symbol of her people. Others found them difficult to train and called this stubbornness. Elora called it self-respect. They were partners to the Elvhen, in good times and bad. Elora often thought of their shared history.

The Halla were with them in the Dales, the height of elven freedom since the fall of Elvhenan. Their Emerald Knights had rode Halla as human knights did on horseback. They were a proud and powerful people then, as were the Halla.

It is said that some of the greatest knights in the Dales would spend hours on their Halla partners. For the herds of Halla in the Dales there was a veritable army of Halla Keepers. These elves worked constantly to maintain the herds. Their coats would be a pale silver that would gleam in the light. It was their horns that marked the most dedicated care. Horns would be carved with great intricacy and were studded with amazing designs. 

The modern Halla paled in comparison. Elora and her people revered the Halla as much as they had ever done. The Halla were no longer a beast of glory though, they were diminished along with the Elvhen. 

Now they pulled the aravels. They dragged homes and belongings across nations that would never let them rest. Their coast were beautiful to an untrained eye but Elora saw the wear in them. Halla horns were weaker now. Carving too much into one horn often lead to breakage and not nearly as much time could be spent on maintaining them. 

Some days Elora would imagine what her Halla could be like. What she could give them in a better world. Her days were spent tending to the herd and still she found herself yearning for more hours in a day. She dreamed of more resources. Especially in cases like this. 

Her ill Halla was now facing a slow death. It was creeping weakness and growing pain. She couldn’t face this suffering any longer. It was then that she drew her blade. Varathorn had made the dagger from ironbark at Elora’s request. She only used the blade in cases like this. 

Elora took a deep breath and steadied herself. She walked over to the Halla that could no longer find the strength to stand. It lay flat on it’s side and panted heavily. The mate was gazed down forlornly. The Halla were intelligent animals and Elora knew they would understand what she was about to do.  
She uttered the customary prayer to Ghilan’nain, asking the Mother of Halla to aid the Halla’s journey to death and guide her own hand.

She drew the Ironbark blade across the Halla’s neck deeply but swiftly. The Halla did not even have time to make a sound. It simply released one gasping breath and collapsed. It’s mate keened loudly into the air. The others in the herd soon joined it. The mourning chorus of the Halla was a a heart-wrenching sound. 

Soon the other members of the camp gathered round. The sound of the Halla’s mourning had told them all what had happened. One by one they approached and knelt to the deceased. Each of them offered prayers to the gods and thanks to the Halla for its company. 

Elora retreated from the crowd. The last few days had taken much out of her. She felt a need to rest. Tomorrow she would remove the Halla’s horns. One would go to Master Varathorn for crafting into a token for the Keeper to take to the Arlathvhen. Elora would keep the other horn and carve it. It would then be used as decoration for an Aravel so that the clan would remember the Halla. This Halla would continue to travel with the Dalish even in it’s death.

Before this could be done though Elora had to rest. In her slumber that night she dreamed of Halla. She dreamed of them resplendent. She dreamed of a time where the tragedy of their loss wasn’t a factor. When she woke in the morning she wondered what the fate of her people would be and she wondered if they could continue to bring the Halla with them if the worst were to occur. How much further could they drag them down. How soon until the Elvhen had no partners at all.

Elora sighed and shed her dark thoughts. She still had charges left to care for. She kept her dreams in her mind and hoped for the future. It was all she could do. 

She then opened the door and looked out on the herd. They were still mournful but their pride still shined through. She took a breath and walked into their midst. She would be there for them now as best as she could. It was all she could do.

**Author's Note:**

> First thing posted here, so any critique or tips would be greatly appreciated.


End file.
